


The Wicked Truth

by fhsa_archivist



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton
Genre: Drama
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-05
Updated: 2006-03-05
Packaged: 2019-02-05 14:39:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12796608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fhsa_archivist/pseuds/fhsa_archivist
Summary: none





	The Wicked Truth

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Haven, the archivist: This story was originally archived at [Fandom Haven Story Archive (FHSA)](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Fandom_Haven_Story_Archive), was scheduled to shut down at the end of 2016. To preserve the archive, I began working with the OTW to transfer the stories to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. If you are this creator and the work hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Fandom Haven Story Archive collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/fhsa/profile).

Wicked closed the door to the room he and his brother had been given deep within the bowels of the Circus of the Damned. Jean-Claude, Master of the City, had sent his second, Asher, to claim the warrior brothers from the Church. Wicked and Truth had sensed the Master vampire's approach as they stood isolated from Malcolm's flock. The crowd had parted and even Malcolm himself had stepped aside as the scarred blond glided into the vampire church. 

 

Asher had come to stand in front of the brothers, bowing, he said. "Greetings Wicked Truth. The Master of the City welcomes you into his territory and into his service." 

 

Truth had bowed in return, giving the blond vampire the traditional reply. Wicked had stood silent, for in truth, he himself was yet unbound; no oath held him to the Master as it did his brother. But where one went, the other followed. After the politics were over, Asher and the two brothers had moved into the night air, away from the hypocrisy of the "church". 

 

"I remember you of old, Asher, when you graced Belle Morte's side with your goldenness." Truth gestured to the scars that ran down the right side of Asher's face and body. "I do not remember those, however. The responsible parties are long dead I trust?" Truth asked, with curiosity but not prurient interest.

 

"Yes, Truth, long dead," Asher answered, his voice solemn, clearly not welcoming any additional questions. 

 

Wicked touched his brother on the arm, silencing him. He could well read the other vampire's body language. Asher did not welcome their attention to his scars. 

 

Now, Wicked stood silently, his back to the door, gazing upon his brother who lay upon the large bed in their room. What Asher had thought upon their insistence that only one bedroom was required, Wicked knew not. Nor did he care, long used to the speculation regarding the relationship between the two brothers. His brother was happier than Wicked had seen him in recent times, more content. Truth was filled with the power of his oath to their new Master. Wicked was not. That echo that had housed his previous Master's link, filled with his old Master's power, had remained broken for so very long now. Wicked had forgotten the security, the feeling of belonging, that a Master's oath provided. 

 

Suddenly, Wicked was angry with his brother. So many images provoked his rage until he could do nothing but dig fingers into the door, holding onto to it to anchor him. _The knife flashed so fast, entering his brother's chest. Finding out too late that it had been silver. The feelings of hope as the Master's servant arrived and bent to bestow a kiss on his brother. That kiss, and another, touching lips that belong to him alone! The terror as the ardeur prickled along his skin and the sheer numbing desolation as he watched his beloved brother fight it. Rage as he sensed Truth losing the battle and becoming hard and aching against that servant's body!_

 

Wicked was losing the battle. He stared furiously at his peaceful sibling. Possessiveness burned through his blood. Mine! he thought. Wicked had not his brother's honor. Cities could burn; oaths could be shattered just as long as not one hair upon his brother's head was harmed. Truth relied on his honor to cling to a morality neither had for ages. Wicked clung to his beloved, his older brother. While many of Truth's and thus Wicked's battles had been for honor, Wicked had fought just as many to keep others from attempting to claim Truth. Had not the Master of the City's servant asked for the ardeur to be controlled, he would have fought another.

 

Truth looked up, meeting his brother's gaze. "Come brother, this bed is much better suited for rest than that hard door." Truth patted the mattress beside him. "Come join me," he called.

 

"You were happy to be pressed tight against that servant? Were you not, brother?" Wicked hissed, he could not escape the image of his brother in the arms of that woman, Anita Blake, never mind that she had saved Truth's life. Wicked could not let go of his jealousy and yes, he resented his brothers confidence in their new Master. He could not feel such a connection!

 

Truth eyed his brother silently. He well recognized the mood his brother was in and knew from past experience that speaking out would be folly. Nothing could have prepared him however for how fast his brother moved. One second he was leaning against the door, glaring at Truth; the next, Truth was pinned under his brother's weight. 

 

"Master's oath, no Master's oath, do you need reminding of to whom you belong?" Wicked spat, capturing his brother's arms and pinning them above flat against the mattress.

 

Truth arched up against his brother. With his blue-gray eyes gleaming and his chestnut hair stark against the whiteness of the pillow, he presented a most decadent sight. An image he knew inflamed his brother's lust. "Perhaps. Do you feel up to reminding me, brother?" Truth purred, rubbing himself sinuously against his brother's tight body.

 

Wicked snarled, fangs gleaming, at Truth. "Do not fuck with me, Truth. I am no mood for your games!"

 

Truth grew still, sensing that Wicked was to close to the edge. He knew what his beloved brother needed when he got like this. Only Truth's surrender would alleviate the unease and jealousy that sometimes took hold of Wicked. 

 

Truth looked deep into his brothers blazing azure eyes, "I am yours," he whispered. "Always yours, Wicked."

 

Wicked rolled them suddenly until he lay flat with Truth stretched out above him. "Then show ME," he demanded.

 

Truth smiled and rose above his brother, straddling Wicked's hips; relived that Wicked's face now bore only that familiar hunger. "With pleasure," Truth replied.

 

Truth pulled the bloodstained shirt over his head, revealing a broad expanse of muscled chest dusted with dark brown hair. Wicked grew hard just looking upon his brother's upper body. His eyes followed that trail of hair until it disappeared into Truth's jeans. Then his eyes traveled back up, lingering on nut-brown nipples already hard from Truth's own excitement. Wicked watched, enrapt, as Truth slid a hand across his chest pausing to pinch one of those nipples until it stood even harder. Truth slid from his brother's body to stand beside the bed. Wicked watched as those strong powerful hands went to the button on Truth's jeans, he licked dry lips as the zipper was slowly lowered. 

 

Truth groaned as his hand slipped around his length. He stroked himself slowly aware of Wicked's eyes upon him. Keeping his eyes locked on those of his brothers, Truth brought his hand out of his pants and up to his mouth. He licked along the palm wetly before moving back down to grasp his length, the wet hand sliding more easily along his flesh. Truth stepped out of his shoes never breaking the rhythm on his cock. He used his free hand and eased his jeans down, first one side then the other, until they pooled at his feet allowing him to step free from them. 

 

Wicked kept his gaze on the large column of flesh between his brothers legs. He watched enviously as Truth ran his hand up and down the column. Wicked's own hand slipped under his shirt to toy with his nipples, but that did not satisfy for long. He pulled his shirt over his head and flung it beside the bed, then reached down and unbuttoned his own pants, slipping those and his shoes off as well. Lying back, he sighed, his cock now free, lay hard and aching against his stomach, the tip already wet from watching his brother's show. His eyes returned to Truth and he watched as his brother threw back his head, his hand moving faster on his own flesh. He watched that slick hand, now wet with Truth's own juices glide up and down, and pause at the head to squeeze a little bit more seed before moving down again. 

 

"Stop," Wicked ordered. "I don't want you spilling yourself like that. Prepare yourself for me, Truth," Wicked demanded. 

 

Wicked lazily stroked himself, enjoying the view of his brother's muscled ass walking across the room. He bit his lip to still the groan when Truth bent over to rummage inside the pack they brought with them. It contained their only things of value. Wicked licked his own lips as his brother turned and made his way back to stand next to the bed, a vial of oil in his hand. Wicked ran his thumb across the head of his cock and down the underside, stroking the big vein that ran there. His other hand toyed with his nipples, pinching one then the other. 

 

Truth opened the bottle of oil, eyeing his brother's enticing body stretched upon the bed. He lifted one foot resting it on the mattress and, coating his fingers, slid them between his legs. Truth hissed in pleasure as his fingers played about the outer muscle of his entrance. He could not help the little shifts, forward and back his hips made as that sensitive area was stroked. Truth brought his hand down and added more oil. He could see that Wicked was getting more and more excited. His brother loved to watch him prepare himself for Wicked's cock. This time when Truth slid his fingers back down to his entrance he did not tease, but thrust two into his body, crying out as he did so. He stilled, allowing himself time to get use to the invasion. 

 

Wicked's breathing had sped up as soon as his brother's fingers began playing with his entrance. He hungrily watched as Truth thrust his fingers into his own body. His own hips refused to stay still as he thrust up into his own fist, already imagining that it was his brother's tight body he pumped into. "Stretch yourself for me, Truth." Wicked ordered as Truth started riding his hand and he knew when the third finger was added by the hitch in his brother's breathing. His own hand sped up on his cock and the tip was leaking his seed copiously now. "That's enough, Truth, now ride me!" Wicked ordered, his voice hoarse and rough in with need.

 

Truth pulled his fingers free from his body and straddled his brother's hips. Their hands clasped together and rested on Truth's hips, just as their eyes locked; Truth's now a silvery gray, burning with want. Wicked hissed as Truth began impaling himself on Wicked's cock. No slow glide did either brother enjoy. Truth rested only when his ass was flush against Wicked's thighs. He relished the full feeling of his brother's hardness inside him. Wicked groaned as his brother's snug channel gripped him just shy of pain. "M-Move," he groaned.

 

Using Wicked's grip on his hands as leverage, Truth began lifting himself off and slamming himself back down on Wicked's cock. They both needed fast and hard tonight, the events too traumatic for anything else. Truth rode his brother hard, pulling himself almost completely off Wicked's cock before thrusting down to take it all the way in. Each slam downward cause the head of Wicked's cock to hit Truth's prostrate hard, and he whimpered with each plunge. 

 

Wicked kept his hips still as possible, allowing his brother to set the pace. His moans rose to match Truth's as Truth's hot snug body slid over his cock again. He broke the hold of their hands and grasped Truth's hips roughly, aiding him roughly sliding on and of his flesh. 

 

"T-Touch me," Truth moaned. "Not going to last."

 

Wicked moved one of his hands from Truth's hips to grasp his brother's cock. Squeezing hard, he set a fast pace, fisting it up and down matching the rise and fall of Truth's body. Wicked could feel his own balls tighten and draw close to his body. He began thrusting up to met each down plunge of Truth's hips. "Cum," he ordered Truth.

 

Truth did, slamming himself down hard once more; he cried out and coated his brothers fist and chest with his seed. He was still moaning when Wicked thrust up, once, twice, before crying out and filling Truth with his seed. Each stayed still, breathing harsh, as tremors tingled through their bodies. Finally, Truth collapsed onto his brother's chest. 

 

Wicked pulled his brother close, wrapping him securely in his arms. He placed a kiss upon the dark head that rested under his chin. Peace filled him now, always did after he made love to his brother. Now he could handle that hollow static, at least until Jean-Claude filled it. He could handle anything as long as he had his Truth.

 

The End


End file.
